#artfriend

my name is cel and im an artist from norway. mostly doing portraits of idols and my own ocs. i hope i can start using tumblr more and maybe get some art friends i dunno ; v ;  

im up for arttrades!! you can find more of my art here: 

- artfight

you haven't been to an artfriend in months. you are standing in front of one. you don't know whether to go in or not. i need a bristle brush, your friend manifests. it's 2.34pm.

please don't take longer than a few minutes, you say. your friend doesn't hear you. they prance off through the aisles of paints and palettes. your friend looks extra happy today, it is the first time you've seen them smile.

why are you wearing barre shoes? you stare down at their pink toes.

i'm not, your friend points at their loafers. their loafers are made of bread. your friend is made of bread.

oh ok, what color do you need.

eighty-nine, they laugh.

are you looking for pricey markers? the staff member asks.

yes actually. he points you in the direction of up.

the both of you are there. the shelves say hello. your mother told you never to talk to strangers, so you stay mum. your friend eats a set of 54 acrylic paints. must taste briny, you conclude. it's fluffy actually, they cry. you pat their shoulders.

bristle brushes! a man is smiling at you. he looks like the horse he is brushing. he gifts you a single strand of purple horse hair. how do you know I like purple? an artist never reveals their names, he scowls. are you an artist? never. his glare sends you two eleven aisles down.

oh, bristle brushes! your friend strokes every brush. you sigh. why are you here again? the brushes bite, so you never use them. and watercolors are mean. that's why you adopted a sister. you wander off and leave your friend with the brushes.

you run into vincent van gogh in the next aisle. do you know where the yellow paints are? he points at you. you don't know where the yellow paints are, but you do have antidepressants. that won't do, pharmaceuticals will never beat the essence of a sunset, he mumbles and walks off. you feel cold.

can we go, you turn to your friend beside you. just one more sketchbook; they are holding a mountain of sketchbooks.

do you have my ink cartridge? they ask. cartilage? no, cartridge. before you can respond, you jump out of the way of an incoming shark. it slides down the aisle with a huff and vanishes into the next aisle. rude, you both agree.

ok; that'll be $56. the cashier is waiting for your friend to fish out their wallet.

you spy a rack of copics on sale. they're 8 cents each. huh. you grab one. you may need it in your quest. the cashier adds it to the purchases. your total is now $23.

can you pay first, i have no cash on me. your friend is asking nicely. you surrender two conch shells to the cashier with a sigh. they flash a smile at you. have a nice day, don't touch the artworks please.

but we're leaving, you say. no we're not, your friend sighs like you just missed a joke. the both of you are standing outside artfriend. a clock strikes midnight somewhere.

we're closing up, the artfriend people say.

but we haven't bought anything yet! you and your friend say.

come back next week; the staff smile.

we'll be back, your friend comforts you.